Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Venezuela and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Black Pus to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Toni Rubio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Faust,
Gang Starr,
Dark Day,
Bush Tetras,
Marshall Jefferson,
Harry Pussy,
The Remains,
Minnie Riperton,
June of 44,
Das Ding,
Ituana,
Lou Reed,
Sun Ra,
Neu!,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Piero Umiliani,
the Swans,
Eurythmics,
Massinfluence,
Moebius,
Newcleus,
The United States of America,
Tommy Roe,
Spandau Ballet,
Y Pants,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Smog,
Tom Boy,
Saccharine Trust,
Gerry Rafferty,
Cecil Taylor,
Soft Machine,
The Modern Lovers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Arthur Verocai,
Fela Kuti,
Mars,
Lalo Schifrin,
FM Einheit,
The Fall,
Main Source,
Ultravox,
Minutemen,
Oneida,
Jeru the Damaja,
Joe Finger,
The Real Kids,
Hot Snakes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lungfish,
the Association,
Traffic Nightmare,
Radio Birdman,
Livin' Joy,
Boogie Down Productions,
Pussy Galore,
Quadrant,
The Evens, The Evens, The Evens, The Evens.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.